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I often wonder what people mean when they tell me I’m funny. Also when they say to me, “Oh Emily, only you”. I like to think that they think I am genuinely hilarious and that only I say such wonderfully funny things. But, I’ve been thinking about it and I reckon they mean this, “You are weird. You are outrageously inappropriate and I am beginning to wonder why I spend time with you”.

It’s true. I am inappropriate. I am one of those people who says what everyone else is thinking. Plus some.

This one time (not at band camp) I said to a friend of mine, “I’m so sorry to hear about your mum” (her mum had recently died) “that’s really crap”! WHO says that to a grieving woman? Me. That’s who. I don’t engage my brain before stuff comes rushing out of my mouth. I really out to practice that.

Another thing I do that can be totally inappropriate, I talk about sex. Always me. All the time. Not in a crude way (not always!), but I can be relied upon to bring it up (no pun intended). If you want to have a civilized girly evening or a nice grown up shindig, don’t invite me!

It’s fun though. You have to embrace the inappropriateness sometimes. Or you can be stiff (HA) and grown up. But I will laugh when people say “I was up at the crack of Dawn” or when someone admires how well something was erected! Seriously, how can you not?!

Speaking of being inappropriate, my husband and I are teaching our daughter the ways. I am lucky to have married a male version of myself. We giggle at the small things. My caption for this photo is, “Mummy, I like being an only child. Keep using these!”.

So, if you want some spice adding to an event, you know where to come!!

Today was a good day. It was the first day in months that I walked out of the house feeling good. It may have something to do with the fact that the baby slept from 7.30pm – 7am FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER <does little mummy dance> Even the dog was super chilled…

When we left the house to go to church I was feeling great! My hair had done what I wanted it to, my make up had behaved and the sun was shining. I even wore purple jeans to celebrate the sunshine (yes I know what I said yesterday but purple is very different from orange!).

Church was great, but part way through my husband turned to me and said, “Fancy grabbing the baby from creche and doing a runner?”! I giggled, actually giggled, and we did! We hoiked the baby out of creche and went out to enjoy the weather! I felt like such a rebel, really guilty. The last time I felt that guilty in church was when I stole some sweets from a cupboard in the kid’s church room when I was about 10! I’m sure I was cajoled into it by my friend. You know who you are. ALLY!

Poor Ally. I don’t know why she put up with me when we were little. I was one of those children who wasn’t rebellious and rarely did anything ‘naughty’. I used to tell on Ally all the time when we were kids! I would always feel guilty and if I had been around someone who had done something wrong. I would be so wracked with guilt that I had to tell my mum! Apparently my mum used to get called into my primary school because I would cry hysterically when my classmates got told off! No wonder I didn’t have many friends (ahhhhhhhh).

One time I was going round to Ally’s house to sleep over and I stole £2 from my mum’s purse so that we could buy some sweets. Well I got to Ally’s and I felt so guilty. I remember sitting on her bed sobbing. So we hatched a plan. I would still spend the money, but I would buy something that I could enjoy but tell my mum it was for her. So I bought a goldfish.

The next day, my sister was performing with her school big band and I broke down in the middle of the concert and told my mum everything. She must have grown sick of my conscience at one point as I vaguely remember her telling me to ‘grow a pair’ once. I really was a wet child. Thankfully I’ve grown a pair now though! Just a metaphorical pair….luckily for my husband!

I hope you all have a super bank holiday! I leave you with this super cute image:

I am in recovery after a rather long day. I have no wine in the house so I am making do with a cup of tea, some chocolate digestives and Saturday night television.

I went to a birthday party today. Well, I took the baby to a birthday party. It was for my friend’s son who turned 1 today (happy birthday!). It was great but rather exhausting. There were lots of children there who made lots of noise! Having such a quiet baby, I’m not used to so many sugared up children rushing around having fun. FUN I tell you!

When I was little, party bags were always the best part of a party. Although my mum would always sift through them first. She was either taking out all the good stuff for herself (as I would) or she was checking for dodgy stuff. I went to a rough school. It wouldn’t surprise me if the mums smuggled drugs to each other using their children’s party bags.

Gushy moment alert!! My sister and her 9 and a half month old (pictured below (right)) were at the party today. I must say, I am very lucky to live so close to my two sisters. All of our girls love each other and get on really well (however that may all change as the two small ones start to develop their own little attitudes!). I hope that my children have as good a relationship with each other as I do with my two sisters.

I bought the most hideous pair of jeans recently. I don’t know what possessed me. They are bright coral. I wear coral nail varnish and love it, but I think two whole legs worth of coral is just a bit too much. So, I got crafty and turned them in to shorts! I have been moaning to my darling husband for ages that all my shorts are too big (thank you Slimming World). Well, tonight I realised that I just can’t pull off walking round with orange legs. I’m just not trendy enough! They make cracking shorts though (I must post a picture once I’ve finished the stitching)! Summery and bright, but there’s not too much of them to blind people. Although I am sure my white legs will do that just fine.

I don’t know how I am going to get to sleep tonight. My weed smoking next door neighbour is having a party. There are people in his bedroom, living room and garden. Although, the smell of weed wafting under the floorboards may relax me just enough to ignore the noise and drift off to a happy place! Hopefully it’ll help the baby sleep through! I can but hope.

No one looks good first thing in the morning. No one. The films lie. Who wakes up with perfect hair and makeup? Er, not me. I resemble a dull, over sized cockatoo. The only two people who get to witness such a fright are my daughter and my long suffering husband. Apart from today…

…You may recall my realisation that I am turning in to my mother because of my mummy dancing? Well, I took the baby downstairs this morning to get her some porridge. My husband was at work and I knew I wouldn’t be disturbed. It was a beautiful morning so I had the kitchen door open so we could admire the garden. Whilst the baby was waiting for her porridge to cool down, I was keeping her entertained by swaying around the kitchen in my dressing gown, singing along to the radio. Then just as I started wobbling my head at her as well as waving my arms, I heard someone shout, “Alright Emily!”. It was my next door neighbour’s son at the bottom of their garden! I yelled ‘hello’ back and ducked out of sight. Now, I should have just left it at that and thought to myself, ‘perhaps I was having one of those mornings where I wake up and look devastatingly beautiful’. But no. I went and looked in the mirror. Oh my. I had make up smudged around my eyes (even though I removed it the night before) and my hair was completely up on end and was wafting about with a mind of its own. Note to self: avoid mirrors (and dancing around the kitchen) first thing in the morning.

To make myself feel less stupid, I decided to balance the top of a pineapple on the baby’s head? Why? Because it took the stupid away from me and put it on her for a bit. Aren’t I a good mother?

When I the baby was napping and I was getting dressed, I decided to make an extra effort to make myself feel a little better. So, I used some Nair hair removal cream on my top lip as I do every week or so. Whilst it was doing its job, I plucked my eyebrows. And lost track of time. You are only supposed to leave the cream on for 5 mins; I left it on for six. When I took it off I had a red tash rash. It really wasn’t the best morning for me!

Now, I don’t know about other parents who have very young children, but I find that often, when I am feeding my 7 month old, I will put the spoon of food into her mouth and I will open and then close my mouth to encourage her to do the same. Well, my husband and I shared a tub of ice cream in the car today and I had to feed it to him whist he drove. After a while, he looked at me really funny and then said I was doing something weird with my mouth each time I gave him some ice cream! I was absent mindedly doing what I do with the baby when I feed her. Even after he told me, I couldn’t stop doing it! This is what 7 and a half months of broken sleep does!! It makes you look like a zombified cockatoo that prances round her kitchen, forgets about tash cream and mimes eating to another grown up. Help me!

In other news:

I went to Dover marina tonight because my dad has just bought a boat and he sailed (sailed? drove? bobbed?) it from Falmouth to Dover over 3 days. We saw him come in and moor (moor? park? crash land?) it. I very nearly fell in the sea, but luckily no one saw.

It’s been a bit of a moronic day for me really. Moronic but enjoyable!

When I was little she used to dance along to music. My sisters and I would mock her for it as it involved her swaying and waving her hands around in front of her. It was funny and it was what mummy did. Well, today, whilst the baby was eating lunch in her Bumbo, I was grooving along to Imagine Dragons’ new album, Night Visions (incredible album by the way), and the baby was laughing at me. I was mortified to realise that I wasn’t grooving (gosh, who says ‘grooving’?!), but I was swaying around the kitchen whilst waving my hands around in front of me. See!! It is happening. I already have tissues in every pocket because I have a constant drip at the end of my nose, thank you mother. Next I will be driving along a country road and pull over because “Look, there is some horse poo. That will make excellent fertiliser for the garden”. Save me. Someone. Anyone. I’m only 25…

Speaking of dripping noses, I saw an old lady with the drippiest nose in history today (and no, it wasn’t my mum. Or me). Actually, I suppose it would be more correct to say that I nearly ran over an old lady with the drippiest nose in history today. Not because she had a drippy nose, because she was in her own old lady world and stepped out in front of my car. At least I know the brakes work!

I ventured out of my home town today. It is a rare occurence. I even ventured out with a friend (one of the few, I ran over the rest) and her baby. We went to (oh my goodness, I really am old before my time…) a garden centre. It was really nice! We looked at fish, baby toys, photo frames, trees, and all things gardeny. There was a giant teddy that I really wanted to buy for my daughter as she was in love with it, but it was £20 and I think my husband wouldn’t talk to me for a long time if I spent that on a stuffed toy! As it is, tonight I have to put up with him having a ‘killer’ headache. Oh lucky, lucky me.

The sun shone and it was actually warm! It was so warm that I decided to eat my porridge outside.

I told all my friends on facebook that I was eating my breakfast ‘ alfresco’ and then I panicked and thought that ‘alfresco’ meant ‘naked’. It sounds like it should mean naked. A quick check on Google informed me that I was right the first time and I was indeed eating my porridge outside, not naked.

The baby had her first proper experience of the garden today (pictured below). I must remember to get rid of the dog poo before she goes out there in the future. She almost had a handful. Urgh. She clearly wanted to get her own back as she tiddled on the carpet later on. What a delightful child I produced!

I learnt a valuable lesson today (it’s only taken seven and a half months): Don’t bounce a baby after you’ve fed her. Your outfit will not remain clean. Neither will your bed sheets. Or her outfit.

It’s been a fairly busy day. I have been very social which is unusual for me as I’m usually a miserable bugger with no friends. Well, I say social. I saw my aunt and two sisters. I don’t suppose that really counts. So, I’m still a miserable bugger with no friends then!

After a car crash a month ago (a van man drove into the back of me and pushed me into the car in front), we finally got a car sorted at the weekend and I picked it up today. Apparently I am a shrewd car buyer! Whatever the dickens that means. Let’s just hope no one drives into me again. If the do then I might just have to ‘drop’ something at them 😉

I am currently sitting at the kitchen table whilst my friends set up their new version of The Settlers of Catan. I. Must. Win.

It started fairly normal and was rather pleasant (apart from the bright red juice my husband brought me this morning. It would appear that he is on a health kick and is juicing anything that stays still long enough. This morning he juiced grapes (normal), apples (normal), carrots (hmm), beetroot (HMM) and parsnip (I KNOW!). It was fairly unpleasant but I didn’t bat an eyelid, even when he told me that he had put some in the baby’s beaker and given it to her (he only told me when I freaked out at her pink vomit)).

We went to baby group where my daughter practiced her ‘zombie crawling’ as my sister calls it and I practiced being nice to other people’s children. My daughter did better than me.

I hoovered the downstairs of the house and considered introducing the baby to the sucky hose on the hoover. I decided against it when I remembered the dog’s reaction to said introduction (I came downstairs one day to find my husband hoovering the dog. He thought it would be easier than brushing her. It wasn’t. Since then the dog runs a mile when the hoover comes out).

It was in the afternoon when the baby decided to give crawling a proper go. She did well, I think she got about 2 feet until she decided that she would rather roll around like a weeble. She did, however, decide to crawl later on. In the bath. It wasn’t her best idea. She got a face full of water and wanted me and the rest of the town to know that she wasn’t happy. Then she did it again. And again. Same result every time. Funny, that.

And tonight I go off to Slimming World as I do every Tuesday night. I live for Tuesday evenings! Time off from being a mummy and a wife. As soon as I come back I will no doubt eat a mountain of food, as is tradition after group.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, no, I didn’t dream of Ryan Reynolds last night. I dreamt of Michael Buble. He helped me up the steps with the pram. Saucy, right? Pah. I’ll never stop being a mummy, will I?

The phone issue is fixed, you will be relieved to hear. I know you were unable to sleep last night due to worry, but all is well. Thank God for insurance. £50 excess and a brand new iPhone, thank you very much.

Be warned though, husband, next time I might ‘drop it’ on your head, not the living room floor.

In other news, I spent an hour and 15 minutes walking around the supermarket today.

An hour and fifteen minutes.

Usually I have a screaming baby perched precariously in the trolley (often screaming because I put her in the seat in such a hurry that both legs get wedged in the same leg hole (yes, I am that mother. The one that has hastily applied make up, often forgetting to blend in her concealer and with snot, spit, sick and the other ‘s’ smeared over the not so carefully planned outfit)) and I rush in and out of the supermarket as fast as a human can, often mowing down the elderly and other people’s children as I go (that just makes me feel better).

But today, I was baby free! So I meandered. I looked at the clothes, I tried on the lipsticks and I read, actually read, the backs of the packets of food.

I fear that people may have looked upon me with some concern, particularly when I started singing “See the little bunnies sleeping ’till it’s nearly noon, shall we try and wake them with a merry tune…”. I think I need a sign that reads “This woman is sleep deprived. She may burst in to song at any time, rock the trolley or break down and cry in the fresh produce aisle (that’s a story for another day)”.

My darling husband is out tonight, so once the baby is in bed I plan to relax. With wine, chocolate and Ryan Reynolds.